


Please

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Glory Hole, Implied Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Spitroasting, Unsafe Sex, come slut Jackson Whittemore, implied Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Teen Wolf Kink Bingo - Square 2: SpitroastingKinktober 2018 - Day 2: BeggingPrompt: marino-kun said: Can I prompt for the frat au? Maybe Jackson realizes that his typical cumslut like in frat porn?





	Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnotherSigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSigh/gifts).



Jackson's arrogant swagger faded as soon as he was out of sight of the other club patrons, safely ensconced in the bathroom stall. He stripped down quickly, putting his clothes out of the way on the back of the toilet, popping the plug free from his ass. He shudder as the cool air hit his wet hole, dripping lube down the backs of his thighs. It took some careful maneuvering but eventually he was in place, ass pressed against the stall wall behind him, mouth open against the wall in front of his face.

The first time he'd come here, there'd only been one hole in the wall adjoining the last two stalls. It wasn't enough for him, would never be enough. He'd rectified that before he left, claws flicking out to drag through the cheap wood and connect the middle stall to both of the ones bordering it. He'd also taken the time to carve a little info into the doors of the adjoining stalls - the one closest to the door now bore the label 'ass’ while the far stall proclaimed itself 'mouth’. When he had returned for the second weekend, he brought a sharpie, wrote instructions inside the 'giver’ stalls: no condoms, no prep time, no pissing. As soon as he'd finished, he set himself up.

Now, months later, he rarely had any downtime between guests. Jackson was barely situated before the first cock of the night came through the hole his mouth was open against. The man on the other side was quick, thrusting deep and barely giving Jackson a chance to breathe, just the way he liked it. It was over too soon, the guy shoving deep and spilling far enough into Jackson's throat that he didn't even get a taste of his come. It did nothing to shake his need. Unfortunately the next few were much the same. He was getting desperate when he heard a pair of footsteps enter the bathroom. His ears picked up the slick sounds of making out, the catch of zippers, and he realized these men weren't here for him. It almost made him want to cry. Instead, he spoke, his voice rough from the throat fuckings he'd endured tonight.

“Please, please...I need it. Use me.” The men outside of the stalls went still and quiet. “Please, nobody's let me taste it, filled me up right, please.” He could hear murmurs then, too quiet for even his super hearing to make out - almost like they knew he'd hear them if they even whispered properly. He'd wonder about it, but before he could, he could hear their feet moving, bringing them to the stalls. It meant he could also hear when they separated, each of them opening a door and moving into place, rattling the walls as they hid themselves away.

He nearly sobs in relief when the first cock slides between his lips, thrusts kept shallow enough that the head glides along his tongue, letting him taste the precome it's spitting. He does end up making a sound that's some cross between a moan and a sob when he feels a cock at his hole finally. The man behind him takes as much care as the one in front, making little teasing thrusts that only barely stretch his rim before pulling back. He can feel his ass clenching and relaxing, damn near trying to kiss the cockhead behind him. There's a dark chuckle before  hard thrust that buries the man to the hilt, causing him to cry out around the cock in his mouth. It must be some kind of signal, because the man in front of him reaches a hand through the hole, grabbing onto Jackson's overly gelled hair and gripping it tight before he begins to mimic the movements of the other man, thrusting in hard until he hits the back of Jackson's throat before dragging nearly all the way back out, just to repeat it.

Jackson isn't sure how long it goes on for, loses himself instead in the rhythm of the fucking, body rocking between the two cocks impaling him at both ends. When he feels the rhythm begin to falter, he wraps a had around himself, does his best to work his ass and his mouth, trying to give as good as he's finally getting. They go off in quick succession, the cock in his mouth spitting and pulsing, the man dragging back so only the very tip is inside, letting him coat Jackson's tongue, drawing further back and pushing Jackson's face down so the last few spurts paint his cheeks and eyelashes. As soon as he's finished, the man behind gives one more hard thrust and begins to flood Jackson's hole with his come, pulsing hot and wet, before pulling out and letting the last bits paint Jackson's rim, smearing his cock over both cheeks and leaving sticky trails behind. Jackson does cry then as his own cock finally twitches, thick ropes falling to the floor beneath him. His limbs are trembling when he finishes, body finally sated.

“Thank you.” His voice is a soft whisper, throat and ass sore. He hears the other doors open, can see a pair of boots and a pair of work sneakers as the men move over to the door that opens to his stall. They stand there, waiting, and he reaches out a trembling hand to unlatch it, let them see the mess they've made of him. His eyes widen when he sees who is on the other side, but he doesn't hesitate when they each raise a cellphone up, instead he turns, gripping one cheek and showing off his sloppy hole, twisting his body to show off his come smeared face. He closes his eyes so the flashes won't set off his eye flare.

“Come here often?” He's always surprised by the softness of that voice, always expects something rougher.

“Ev-every weekend.” He has to clear his throat to get the words out.

“Good. See you next weekend then. Maybe we'll bring some more friends next time.” Both men smirk at him, but he can only nod. Has to resist begging any more tonight, though he knows that won't be the case when he sees them here again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


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